Resting there, I reflected that I was not yet halfway down the precipice; and now I had to think of how I should manage to haul the rope down and secure it to another projecting rock.  The only suitable point I could see was some yards away from me to the right side, and I had to climb upward again before I could find a shelf by which to approach it.  After a tedious attempt—­during which my magic stone came very near to proving its power—­I at last reached the desired place.  A gull fluttered away with a wild cry as with bleeding fingers I held on to the ledge of rock; and there I found, nestling upon their bed of moss and weeds, a pair of woolly little chicks which stared strangely at my intrusion.

My safety, perhaps even my life, depended upon my getting astride of that small rocky point where the young gulls sat.  In my extremity I took hold of one of the chicks, intending to throw it down the cliffs; but the mother bird flew towards me with such piteous cries that even in my danger I could not be so cruel, so I removed the little ones to a crevice close at hand and seated myself upon their nest, thankful of the refuge it afforded.  And now I heard a shrill whistle from Robbie Rosson, by which I understood that, seeing my comparative safety, he was going to find some place where he could get down to the beach, there to wait until I should bring the boat round for him.

But I must say that I thought my chances of ever getting round to him were very small.  I was not by any means so safe as he seemed to think, for being once seated on that shelf of the cliff I found that my next difficulty would be to turn round with my face to the rock in order to continue the perilous descent.

I had now to get my rope down from the height above me.  First then I tied one end of the line round my body so that the rope might not fall, and, allowing the other end to hang slack, began to haul away.  Things went well for a few moments, and the rope answered to every pull I gave.  But, alas! there came a check.  I had let loose the wrong end, and the knot by which we had connected the two lines had caught in some crevice.  Try as I might I could not loosen it; yet I was not certain that its hold was firm enough for me to venture climbing up again by the portion of the rope that I held in my grasp.

My thoughts were fearful.  Here was I, stranded on this ledge of rock, midway up the face of a steep precipice, the sea roaring far beneath me, and with no obvious means of escape either above or below.

My boat looked small away deep down there as she tugged at her mooring line and tossed wildly about in the rising tide.  O, how I wished that I was seated at her helm, and in sight of my beloved Stromness!

Instinctively I felt for my magic stone.  It hung safely under my knitted shirt.  I trusted in the security it gave me, and my courage was renewed.  The way out of my predicament was so hopeless, my danger so great, that I solemnly resolved, should I ever reach home again, to attribute my escape from this peril to the intervention of the viking’s talisman.